A book enthusiast meets a man

In a Boi-Mela

Poverty writ large on his face

This man lives far away, in a remote village

He goes to different village-melas

There he recites his poems

He can’t bring out a book of his poems

He sells his leaflet for 10 paisa

A jewel in the dust this man was not

But had the beauty of conviction

And plenty of dreams

Not once this man’s self-belief wavered

Nor did he ever sell his poverty

Or asked for sympathy

Despite the odds, a true poet this man was.